


On the Seaside

by radical_dadical



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Gen, M/M, Teal Roots Mermaid!Gerard, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10933806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radical_dadical/pseuds/radical_dadical
Summary: Three weeks before school let out for summer, Frank’s mom accosted him at breakfast and told him they were moving to the beach.By the time the words ‘moving’ and ‘beach’ percolated through his mind, she had finished talking and her eyebrows were doing that thing they did when she thought he was about to put up a fight. Frank munched on his Rice Krispies and mulled it over. He wasn’t excited about the idea, but the beach was only about twenty minutes away by car and Jersey was Jersey. It wouldn’t be that different. Besides, they had always moved around a lot.So Frank shrugged and kept eating.It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when they were packing up the kitchen that Frank found out exactly what ‘beach’ meant.___Or, Frank learns to love the ocean and someone else along the way.





	1. Do You Want to Go to the Seaside

**Author's Note:**

> This is in no way supposed to represent the real members of MCR. It's just a fan fiction about mermaids. Enjoy.

Three weeks before school let out for summer, Frank’s mom accosted him at breakfast and told him they were moving to the beach. 

By the time the words ‘moving’ and ‘beach’ percolated through his mind, she had finished talking and her eyebrows were doing that thing they did when she thought he was about to put up a fight. Frank munched on his Rice Krispies and mulled it over. He wasn’t excited about the idea, but the beach was only about twenty minutes away by car and Jersey was Jersey. It wouldn’t be that different. Besides, they had always moved around a lot.

So Frank shrugged and kept eating.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when they were packing up the kitchen that Frank found out exactly what ‘beach’ meant.

“Did you just say Uncle John’s house?” 

Uncle John wasn’t an uncommon topic. He was the wealthiest of his mom’s siblings and always had interesting stories to tell over the phone. But Frank was pretty sure he only owned houses in California. 

“Yes, Frank. He’s setting up the house for us right now.” She sounded exasperated.

Something wasn’t firing quite right in Frank’s brain. 

“But Uncle John lives in California.”

His mom’s hands hesitated over the box of plates before expertly folding in the cardboard. 

“Frank, where did you think we were moving? I told you…”

She kept talking but Frank wasn’t listening. A small, hysterical laugh bubbled up and out of his throat. When she had said beach he had been thinking Lavallette or Belmar. Even wherever they shot Jersey Shore. But fucking _California_? This was the ultimate betrayal. The box of linens he’d been holding slipped through his fingers to the floor and he had to lean back on the counter.

“Mom.” He wanted to blow up, scream and yell. Instead, he had to fight to keep his voice steady.

He knew he failed when his mom immediately looked up at him, mid ramble. 

“Oh, Frankie. I told you I _know_ I did.”

“Are you- _California_?” This time his voice did wobble and his mom was on her feet and wrapping him up in a hug before he could formulate something else to say.

“I thought- you were just taking it so well and I didn’t want to ask but-”

Frank just pressed his face into her shirt, trying to squash his panic between them. He had thought they were staying in Jersey. He wasn’t worried. But now. Now he only had three days left in his favorite place on Earth. It wasn’t enough. 

“Frankie-” She pulled him away from her shirt so she could look him in the eye. She looked tired and so much older than she ever had before and Frank was taken on a technicolor rerun of the last couple years of fights, moving, and stretching the money until it screamed, until it all cumulated in a divorce.

“Ma-”

“It’ll be good for us, Frankie. Just think about it! Everything will be so different.” She swiped a thumb under his eye and he knew she was thinking about the last time he came home with a black eye and a bloody nose. It was supposed to be for different for him too. 

That was exactly what terrified him. He _knew_ Jersey. It was the only thing he had. And he was going to lose it to the beach. 

\---

It took them almost four whole days to get to California and Frank hated every moment of it.

He hadn’t spent this much time confined in a car since he was twelve and his parents thought a nice family trip to Disney World would fix all of their marital issues. This was kind of like that, the radio playing to fill up the loaded silence. At least this time, his mom let him control the music. Somewhere around Colorado she got in her head to have Frank drive part of the way with his provisional license. It was a double dose of cruelty, making him drive away from his home to a place where he would turn sixteen and get a stupid California license instead of the New Jersey one he had been waiting for. To make matters worse his mom had taken to stopping at all the stupid shit in the middle of the country no one in their right mind would actively go see. Frank made it his petty mission to (discreetly, there was no place worse for a lecture than a car you couldn’t escape from. Disney World had taught him that too.) flip off every single one as they drove away.

Their arrival into California was full of middle fingers. From the State line to every fucking exit they took. To the Town Limit, where he mentally sent the bird to each and every one of the seven thousand twenty one residents that lived there. To right now, as he glared up at the gleaming sign that proclaimed the street they were turning on to be “Seaside Avenue”.

“Fuck you.” He mouthed at it through the window.

It kept gleaming. 

___

The house was… underwhelming at best. Frank knew that Uncle John was a penny short of being absolutely loaded so he had been expecting something a little nicer than the small white house they pulled up to. Well, it was mostly white. Some of the paint was peeling back to reveal the wood panels underneath and the front gate was more rust than metal. The only point in its favor was that it was situated on the Cliffside, looking over the beach.

His mom didn’t seem to notice any of that though. Her smile was practically splitting her face as she took it all in.

“C’mon. We can start unloading later.” She didn’t even wait for Frank to respond before she was pushing the rusty gate open.

The inside was _okay_. There were too many fucking windows and the walls were all painted light, creamy colors. The kitchen had a bay window that overlooked the beach. His mom didn’t hesitate in throwing it open and letting the smell of salt and brine roll into the room like a wave. Frank felt like he was floating in it.

His mom took a deep satisfied breath and gazed out to the horizon. Frank was completely torn. He _hated_ this move. He already felt rootless and listless here. 

But. 

He hadn’t seen his mom look like this in years, the lines around her face relaxed and a real smile in place. But here she was, looking out the window and tilting her face into the sun like she was ready to bloom.

He sighed. He was fighting a losing battle.

__

 

There was no light fixture in his room. Which, he guessed didn’t matter too much because it also had a big fucking window that let in way more light than he knew what to do with. But still.

The rest of the room wasn’t bad. It was a little smaller than his room at home- or Jersey. Still. It felt wrong, that this was his room now. His room was back in Jersey, with posters lining the walls, and his dusty bookshelf, and his small shitty window with the broken blinds. He knew it was empty now, probably being filled by someone who was taking Jersey for granted. 

Even the fact that he had his own bathroom didn’t cheer him up. His mom pointed out that there was a full tub built into the wall. He scuffed his sneakers on against the wood floor and made interested noises as she moved around the room. 

“Frankie, I think you have the best view of the beach. Listen! You can hear the waves!”

He couldn’t put in words how much he didn’t care about the fucking beach.

Instead, he said: “There isn’t a light in here.”

Her solution was to give him the whole box of Christmas lights as a quick fix until they could find him a lamp. He wanted to throw the box out the big fucking window. Who did she think he was? Some hipster wannabe with a button up and bow tie fetish? It was too late though, she had already started pinning them to the wall.

He’d already sacrificed his New Jersey driver’s license, he had nothing left. 

Later, as he laid out on his frameless mattress and started up at the dim lights, the ache in his chest hit him full force. The reds and whites would have looked badass against his horror movie posters back in Jersey. But here? With the multicolored strands running in between them, casting a barrage of hues against the walls? He was overwhelmed. Like he was in some alien land. The waves crashed outside of his window and Frank felt boxed in and drowning. 

He threw the covers off and stood in one movement. The lights needed to go first. He yanked the cord out of the wall, sending each bulb sputtering into the dark. Then the window. The glass rattled as he pulled it shut and the room was finally silent.

He pressed both of his middle fingers up against the glass and looked down to where he knew the waves were crashing.

\--

It took a day and a half of sulking before Frank’s mom came for him herself. She had taken one look at his comic and cardboard box strewn room, and yanked him out from under the covers. It ended with him standing in the middle of the room sulking.

“Why don’t you go outside? It’s beautiful-”

He groaned and laid facedown on the floor. 

“Frankie.” She sighed and sat down on his bed. He really hoped she didn’t see his DS hidden under the pillows. His whole sulking act would be ruined then. All he wanted was to finish his level and the thought of going outside was honestly disgusting. But he knew that tone, so he rolled over onto his back to let her know he was listening

“You know, I saw some kids on skateboards when we were driving in. Maybe-”

He flopped his hand at her. Skateboarding was no fun if it was cool and everyone did it. Nothing was fun unless he was pissing someone off while he did it. 

“At least go outside. Its still summer.” She was up now, and pushing the window open. “How about the beach?”

Frank threw on his clothes and headed for the door. Skateboarding it was. 

\---

It kind of went with out saying, but Frank _missed_ Jersey.

California was pretty, he’d give it that. It was always the right side of warm and there was actual nature. But the sun bleached everything out, made it all faded and hard to see. He missed the grime, the malls, the diners. He missed his dad sneaking him into shows. He missed the cracked sidewalks and the smog and the people. But mostly, he missed how old everything was. The powerful feeling that came from walking into something ancient, that it housed something more. Even the bars had felt steeped in history.

Everything in Puesto Del Mar felt impermanent and new. Like the way their buildings made out of wood (honestly, wood. What the _fuck_ ). Or that the oldest gravestone Frank could find in their cemetery only dated to the early 1900s. There was nowhere creepy enough for him to loiter around and stew in his angst like he wanted to. 

\---

It took about three days for Frank to find the bookstore. He had been exploring the downtown area when he saw it, pressed in between a trinket shop and a Starbucks. Maybe his mom would let him stay in if he had new books to read. Before he knew it he was hopping off his skateboard and pushing the door open. The clerk who was dozing behind the counter looked up when the bell rung and nodded to him.

Frank gave a jerky nod and made a bee-line for the horror section. He skimmed for a while before coming across a Stephen King he didn’t have. A quick pocket check assured him he had enough cash.

The clerk looked up at Frank when he approached, staring him down with a watery gaze. Frank stared right back.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He scratched as his gray stubble with a weathered hand before taking the book from Frank. “You new here?

Frank had had this conversation about eight times already and he wondered what gave him away this time. It was usually either his clothes or his pale skin. He bet himself the book that it was his skin. 

“Yeah, my mom and I moved in a few days ago.” He could already tell this conversation was going to be exactly like all the other ones.

The clerk made an interested noise. “Yeah? Where you guys from?”

“New Jersey.” Frank said, just barely managing not to roll his eyes.

The clerk whistled, “And here I was wondering why you were so pale.”

‘Ding ding we have a winner!’

Frank smiled in a way he hoped was friendly and wished the clerk would hurry the fuck up with his book. 

“What part of town?”

Everyone he talked to had corrected him when he said “Seaside Avenue”. They all called it The Cliffs and said he was so lucky to live so close to the beach. He never liked that part of the conversation.

“We live on The Cliffs.”

“Oh, that’s right by-”

Here it comes.

“The Tide Pools.”

“The what?” That was a new one. Whatever it was, it still sounded like it had to do with the beach so Frank didn’t give a shit, by association. And judging by the smile on the clerk’s face, it was just another one of those little things that the town was ridiculously proud of. 

“The Tide Pools. They’re-“

‘Beautiful’ Frank mimicked in his head.

“-beautiful.”

He was really getting too good at this. 

“It’s too bad everyone thinks they’re totally haunted.” The clerk said, finally scanning his book. 

Frank guessed he was looking some kind of interested because the guy laughed at him. Luckily, he took mercy on Frank and started talking.

“Singing, sightings, the whole shebang. Nobody goes out there anymore. Sad though, never seemed like whoever’s out there meant any harm.”

“Yeah.” Frank narrowed his eyes. There was no way this town had anything cool enough to be haunted. 

Maybe he would check it out anyways. 

The clerk handed him his book. “Have a good day, kid. Stay outta trouble.”

\--- 

The air was so thick with water and salt that it clung to Frank’s skin and wrapped him up in it. The sand pulled at his sneakers and the waves crashed against the shore, begging for his attention. He kept moving. He didn’t give a shit about the sand or the sunset. He was on a mission. 

It took a little adventuring but Frank finally found the Tide Pools. The cliff that ran along the beach shot up to a dizzying height as he walked on. It towered over him by the time he got to the section that reached out to the shoreline and spilled sharp, dark rocks around its base. Frank nearly soaked his shoes climbing over them. Beyond it, the shore opened back up into a cove filled with rounded and abandoned rocks and a spit of sand running around the inner edge.

And there, on the other side, were the Tide Pools. The rock was raised up and out of the sand and water and jutted out into the sea. It was marbled with blacks and whites and looked peaceful in the fading light. It was kind of eerie but Frank refused to accept that anything in this town was cooler than what he had in Jersey. The rock totally wasn’t haunted.

When he reached the pools, he tried to follow the natural steps up but the rock was slippery. After nearly braining himself trying to go the easy way, he settled for climbing up the side, sticking his fingers and toes into the damp nooks and crannies. He hoisted himself up onto the flat of the stone and suddenly he was there. There was an expanse of pools interwoven in the rock and crevices that spat out water when the waves rolled through. One of the crevices opened wide, more like a hole, and led down to a pocket of sea. Frank could probably fit his whole body and then some into it if he tried. 

Movement in the corner of his eye had Frank whipping his head around. But there was no apparition or anything remotely ghostly, only little fish trapped in the pools, darting away as he approached. He crouched down to get a better look. A weird plant looking thing waved its little tendrils around in the water and tiny bugs skittered across the surface. There was even a lone crab shuffling between the rocks. 

The ocean was fucking weird. 

As he looked around, he decided this place was way too alive to be haunted. He couldn’t see a ghost wanting to hang around somewhere with so much movement. He smirked and then frowned. The clerk totally got him. He was probably sitting in that stupid bookstore laughing at Frank right now. He probably saw Frank’s hair and Frank’s clothes and thought, ‘now here’s a kid I can fuck with.’

He rolled his eyes at himself and settled in on the driest rock he could find. He might as well stick around, just to be sure. He guessed the tide pools were kind of cool, if you were into being vaguely moist and surrounded by creepy sea creatures all the time. 

\---

He heard it when the sun started to touch the sea.

It was difficult to make out over the rhythm of the waves against the rock but it was definitely singing. Frank froze, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He waited, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things but it kept going. 

“No fucking way.” He whispered to himself.

He was careful to keep quiet as he crept back over the rock, trying to find where the voice was coming from. Now that he was closer, the melodic quality of the voice wasn’t lost upon him. It was soft and otherworldly, reverberating out of the fissures in the tide pools. 

“H-hello?” He called out. Ghost Hunters always tried to talk to the ghosts, right? “Is anyone there?”

The voice cut off immediately. Frank missed it already.

“I come in peace!” He said to the rock, hoping it would leak through the cracks to whatever was in there. 

A little pebble shot out of the gaping hole Frank had checked out earlier and skittered past his feet.

Disembodied voices and flying pebbles? It was like a shitty Christmas, where he got something he totally hated but it ended up being cool.

He had to see what was down there.

He inched closer to the hole, staying low. Just as he was about to peak his head over the side to take a look, it spit out a wall of water and doused Frank. He sputtered and gaped at the hole.

“You’re a fucking _dick_ , has anyone ever told you that?” 

Another pebble flew out, this time hitting him squarely on the forehead. 

Frank rushed the hole. He wasn’t sure how he was going to fight a supernatural, non-tangible being but he would fucking figure it out. The crevice, predictably, was empty. The only thing that was in there was Frank’s blurry reflection staring back at him. He was contemplating climbing down there when his phone buzzed angrily in his pocket. His mom was the only one who triple texted him like that. Even though she was excited about him going to the beach, he knew that if he didn’t get back soon he wouldn’t find out anything about the rock.

“This isn’t over.” He said into the hole.

The ocean hissed in response.  
\---

Frank launched a military campaign. 

The next day he brought his flashlight, a notebook, and that stupid Stephen King novel that got him into this mess in the first place. After careful review, he decided to not invade the ghost’s space and go into the hole. If it could throw rocks, who knew what else it could do. So Frank chose to be respectful for once in his life and only sat at the edge of the hole, letting his toes drift in the currents with a subtle ‘fuck you’ attached to each digit.

But it seemed to all be for nothing. The ghost never sang again. 

So Frank started talking. He started with his lame ass life so the ghost would know he wasn’t a threat. When he ran out of things to say he gave lectures about music. He even practiced the speech he planned to give his mom about why they should get a dog. 

The ghost didn’t offer any criticism, so Frank figured it was pretty good.

Eventually, he couldn’t come up with something new so he started reading aloud. He’d pretty much given up at this point on finding anything supernatural but his mom had nearly cried tears of joy when she figured out he was going to the beach. It had firmly gotten her off of his back, so he kept going. She had always worried when he would go out in Jersey, but here it seemed like the addition of the beach meant he wouldn’t get up to shit. Which was true, empirically, but he wasn’t sure what was worse though, loitering around liquor stores or trying to contact a spirit that liked to throw rocks. 

So he kept coming. There were little half splits in the rock that kept dry and Frank had always loved the Box Car Kids, so he tried to stash stuff. His flashlight and his extra copy of Cather in the Rye had been gone the next day and Frank lectured the hole about taking stuff that wasn’t theirs. He was less and less convinced that there was something there, but it was the fact of the matter.

A week later, Frank had all but given up. He still sat at the mouth of the hole and read into the hole because he liked the way his voice echoed around the cave. Today though, he was silent and completely engrossed. The Stephen King book was ramping up and his skin was crawling. He needed to read faster than he could talk, so he sat in a dedicated silence, ignoring the fading light.

The water was high today, up past his ankles and he’d gotten used to little fish passing by and slithering along the arches of his feet. So when something brushed against him, he kept reading. It was maybe firmer and larger than he was used to and the feeling of it crawled up his nervous system but he knew he wouldn’t see anything if he looked. The fish always passed through quickly. So he shook it off and chalked it up to Mr. King.

But it happened again and Frank’s body demanded that he look. He knew he was being paranoid but he couldn’t relax until he did. So he took a steeling breath and lowered the book to peer down, expecting to see his reflection and nothing else.

There was a face. 

But it wasn’t his. 

It was very solid and very pale and looking straight at him.

Frank yanked his feet out of the water and shrieked, flailing backwards onto the rock. 

His heart fought to free itself from his chest as he took a few gasping breaths to ground himself. Either Stephen King had finally lead him to hallucinations or there was an actual ghost in there that had actually shown up. He needed to see, so he pushed himself back up and tentatively looked into the hole. 

The ghost person was still there, bobbing up and down with the current, staring up at him through big, red-rimmed eyes that popped out of a pale face. 

“Uh-hey?”

Silence.

“I’m uh Frank-”

“I know. You talk a lot.” There was a smug twist to the ghost’s lips and Frank felt his face flame.

“Right, I just-” Fuck, he hadn’t planned this far.

“You need to leave.”

Frank hung his head. Right. What did he expect?

“No-like,” The ghost finally broke composure and almost looked flustered, making abortive hand gestures to the moon and out toward the shore. “It’s a full moon and the tide is coming in. You need to leave.”

Frank wanted to protest but a quick check behind him had him squeaking out some choice swear words. The waves were nearly licking at the foot of the cliffs and if he wanted to get back without getting soaked, he needed to go now. 

He looked back into the hole. The ghost was gone.

\---

The next day was Frank’s moms last free day before she started work at the clinic.

And naturally, she wanted to see where he’d been spending all of his time. So he led her to some random spot on the beach and plopped down. He couldn’t exactly take her to the Tide Pools now that he knew there was something there. He still wasn’t sure he hadn’t just hallucinated the whole thing but he wasn’t about to test that with his mom.

It was a special kind of torture. The Tide Pools being right there. He desperately wanted to go check but he couldn’t, not with his mom chattering away next to him. He dug around in his bag for his book. He was still at the good part and he needed a distraction. But it was missing and he realized that he had probably left it at the pools in his haste to leave. 

He sighed and resigned himself to a day of suffering. He just hoped the ghost was still there tomorrow. 

\---

His mom’s shift started in the afternoon so she spent the morning puttering around the house, looking like a nervous wreck. As much as Frank wanted to run to the pools as soon as he got up, he stuck around and waited until she left.

He was at the beach three minutes after her car pulled out of the drive way and at the cliff two minutes after that. He hadn’t ran this far or this fast since some guys from his last school decided it would be fun to chase him home. This was _so_ much better.

As he climbed across the cove and up onto the pools, he realized he was maybe a little nervous. There was no universal protocol for dealing with the supernatural. Plus he wasn’t exactly sure how benevolent this spirit was. Sure, they had cared enough to point out the tide

He settled in at the mouth of the hole like he had the past week, but was careful to keep himself out of reach just incase the ghost decided they wanted to murder Frank.

“H-hey.” He said into the hole. 

No response. 

He felt stupid, knowing that there could actually be someone listening but damn it, he was going to hang out with this ghost if it was the last thing he did. 

“Hey,” He started again, “It’s uh- it’s Frank. I know you know that already but, I just wanted to let you know, so if you’re like hiding because you think I’m someone else then…”

Jesus Christ, he didn’t know he could _be_ this awkward. It felt like he was leaving a message for a cute girl on her home phone.

“So yeah, just call me back.” He muttered.

He sighed and let his head hang. Even the cool ghost that lived in rocks didn’t want to hang out with him. They probably had supernatural friends and wanted Frank to leave them the fuck alone. He gave the cave one last desperate scan. He could wait and he would- wait! There! There were pale fingers splayed out against the rock and Frank grinned.

“Hey! I see you!”

The fingers shot out of Frank’s line of vision and he panicked.

“No, wait!” He stuck the entire upper part of his body into the opening. He had to awkwardly stretch his arm across to the other side of the hole, but it was the only thing keeping him from falling in. “I just want to talk to you!”

The light bounced off the water and illuminated the smooth walls of the cave. The ghost was pressed back into a corner, arms brace and looking absolutely terrified. Immediately, Frank felt horrible. He was totally invading their haunting space or whatever. The ghost had probably been stoked yesterday when he hadn’t come by. 

Frank was never good at telling when he wasn’t wanted. He felt his face burn.

“Sorry-I’ll just-”

He tried to push of the lip of the cave but it wasn’t enough. He had a second to realize he was falling before he splashed face first into the water. He immediately coiled up, praying he wouldn’t scrap himself up against the rock. But the water was way deeper than he could imagine and a little bit of panic set in. Frank could sort of doggie paddle in the shallow end of a well-supervised pool but this was out of his depth. Then something slick made its way around his waist and the panic set in for real for a moment before he could make out the distinct press of fingers against his skin. The hands settled in his armpits and he was being hauled upward. He gasped when he broke the surface and the hands released him but still tentatively hovered over his ribs.

He wiped at his eyes.

And oh. 

The ghost was right there in front of him, staring at him with wide eyes. The wonky light of the cave made it hard to see but Frank could make out high-cheek bones and translucent skin. Little sparkly dots of red spread out from around the ghost’s doe eyes, making them look ethereal and all kinds of beautiful.

The ghost’s arms kept Frank in orbit, using them like a security cage to make sure he didn’t drift too far. By the second or third time Frank brushed up against them, he had started to figure out that either ghosts were solid or this was something else entirely.

His legs had relaxed from the tight ball he’d curled into and his toes kept brushing up against something slick and muscular. His eyes dropped down, watching as the ghosts pale torso tapered off into rows of black, glittery scales. 

Something else entirely, indeed.


	2. Well I Was Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is in no way supposed to represent the real men of MCR. It's just a fan fiction about mermaids! Enjoy!!

_One, two, three.._

Frank counted as the water from his shirt dribbled back into the ocean. He shook out the fabric and then twisted it back up in the other direction. He counted again. A couple seconds less this time. Counting was good. It was something his dad always told him to do. Back when he was a little kid and he’d scraped himself up on the playground, he was supposed to count, see if it really hurt before he cried. Or when he was a little bit older and there were monsters in his closet. Then when he was fourteen and someone wanted to fight. And then now. When he was sitting on a rock, wringing out his clothes under the hot sun. It was good. It kept things simple, gave him something to focus on. He twisted again. 

It definitely kept him from looking at the supernatural entity bobbing in the water beneath him.

A warm breeze worked its fingers through his hair. Counting was good because it kept his brain from stuttering over the fact that there was an actual being that was decidedly _not human_ that existed on this plane of existence. Maybe he had _thought_ he was ready to deal with that. But now? Now, he might have been struggling. Just a little bit. He glanced away from the shirt, just for a moment, to the being. They were keeping their distance, but had their eyes firmly locked on Frank, like he was going to lash out or speak or do something rash and immediate. He looked away and unfurled the shirt, laying it out on the warm rock. For the first time in his life, he was thankful for the dry heat of the California sun. He felt it against his back, evaporating all the little droplets that clung to his skin. He imagined that he could count them disappearing. 

There was a splash and when Frank looked, the being was gone. The only evidence they were there were the ripples in the water. He strained to hear anything above the sound of the waves. After a few moments of confirmed silence, he sighed and stood up. Sure, he hadn’t said a word or really acknowledged the being but damn, he didn’t think he was that bad of company. And okay. He was a little pissed, now that he thought about it. The disappearing act was getting a little irritating. But he was also grateful for the silence. For a few moments to himself because shit. This was wild. He was also a little angry that the supernatural here was so fucking _Californian_. Not that he had a whole lot of experience with the supernatural anyway but still. Did they have to be all pretty and aquatic and quiet? So not what he signed up for. 

He figured that whatever they were, they probably wouldn’t come back. So he began working on his pants. They were completely soaked and practically vacuum-sealed to his skin. He tried to take them off the normal way but was forced to give up around halfway down his thighs after he’d practically peeled a layer of epidermis off with them. It was hard enough getting these pants on on a good day, but now, getting them _off_ on a _bad_ day? Jesus Christ. He had an image of himself, his incredibly short, kind of chubby, mid-puberty self standing on a rock with his pants half down and looking like a drowned rat. He let his hands flop by his sides and sighed, staring off into the distance. He felt like yelling or shaking his fists at the sky or doing something equally dramatic but all he could muster was a dead-eyed stare off into the distance. 

“What are you doing?”

He clapped his hands over his nipples and whirled back around. The only point in his favor was that he didn’t shriek this time. 

The- oh who was he kidding- the _mermaid_ was peering up at him from below the rock in all of their pretty mermaid glory. Frank hastily removed his hands from his nipples. He tried to shove them in his pockets, but those were also rolled up in his half yanked down pants, so he just let them hover awkwardly by his sides. 

“I-uh-” Jesus Christ, this was painful. “My pants are wet. And uh- stuck? To me. And I’m trying to get them off. Of me.”

He should just walk home, pants falling wherever they may. It would be less emotionally damaging than this. A silence pervaded as he tried to look anywhere but at the mermaid, debating if making a run for it was valid.

“I found this?”

The mermaid’s voice was surprisingly nasal. They held up one of Frank’s shoes. Frank looked down to check and sure enough he only had one shoe. He meant to double check that the shoe the mermaid was holding was in fact his but he got caught on the black scales peppering the mermaid’s long fingers. The mermaid shifted and pulled the shoe back and Frank realized he had been staring. 

“Oh, uh-” Frank felt a flush work its way up his neck. “Thanks?”

He reached a hand out for the shoe and the mermaid drifted closer to the rock and held it out with both hands, eyes flicking between it and Frank. He had a hand on the shoe, but it took the mermaid a moment too long to let go, a gaze of something like wonder fixed on the footwear and Frank realized something. This mermaid probably had no idea what the fuck they were holding. Frank didn’t know what kind of mermaid technology existed, but the look of absolute intrigue on the mermaid’s face had him talking before he’d actually consciously reached a decision. 

“Do you want to-” He offered the shoe.

They drifted up, eyes wide and Frank suddenly felt like he was offering food to a skittish animal, that patience and stillness were of the utmost importance if he wanted this to go well. 

“Can I?” The mermaid lifted both hands out of the water.

Fuck it. The shoe was already soaked. He nodded dumbly and placed it in the mermaid’s hands. They cradled it with a delicacy and reverence that he would have reserved for his mom’s fancy dinner plates or a really, really nice guitar. 

“Its not fragile.” He blurted.

The mermaid nodded, head ducked and eyes focused. Their fingers hesitated over the laces before fiddling with the bow. 

“What is it?” The question was quiet and awed.

“It’s a shoe.” Was all Frank managed.

He watched as the mermaid mouthed ‘shoe’ to themselves before pulling at the tongue. While the mermaid was fixated on the shoe, Frank let himself stare. The most obviously inhuman thing about the mermaid was that they had teal roots. The color was vibrant at the root but faded to black near where their ears should be. Their hair was slick to their skin and long down to their shoulders, where it mixed with the sea and flowed in the current. It brushed up against a cluster of black scales on their shoulders. As they bobbed with the water, the light caught on the scales and they glinted back teals and reds in the sun. Frank tugged at the ends of his own long hair. He hadn’t dyed it in a while and his time out in the sun started turning it light. This mermaid looked way more punk than he did right now and that was saying something. 

“What does it do?”

Frank snapped out of his study. Part of him really couldn’t believe his life right now. He was standing on a _rock_ , on the _beach_ , in _California_ , talking to a _mermaid_ about what a shoe was with his pants halfway around his thighs. He was getting less punk by the second. That part kind of wanted to yank his pants back up or off or something, and take off. But then the mermaid lifted their gaze to Frank and the other part of him, the part with the inexplicable urge to tell them everything about anything came through. 

He waddled back over to the edge. “It goes on your feet.”

There was a beat of silence and the mermaid arched an eyebrow at him.

“Oh!” Frank flushed again. He was _bad_ at this. “They’re-”

“-connected to your legs. I know.” They tugged at the tongue. “I’ve just never seen _this_.”  
“They’re Vans.” Frank supplied, for lack of anything better to say.

“Can you show me?”

They were peering up at him, their eyes wide and curious and Jesus, who was he kidding? A _mermaid_? That was fucking cool.

“Okay, let me just, I need to take my pants off. They’re wet and I-”

Fuck it. He turned and wiggled his pants the rest of the way off. He felt exposed, out on this stupid rock with the mermaid’s intense gaze on him, but damn it, he wasn’t about to get chafe while hanging out with a mermaid. He worked them down and off his ankles and then he was free. The sea breeze twisted between his freshly exposed legs, rustling up his meager hairs and he felt oddly liberated.

Then, he settled back down on the rock, tossing his pants to the side before holding out his hand for the shoe. Once it was back in his hands, he had to decide how he was going to do this. He usually just shoved his feet in and hoped for the best but he figured the mermaid was looking for something with a little more production than that. He took his time, undoing the knot and pulling at the tongue to loosen the laces. The mermaid’s attention was rapt on his fingers, their hands hovering in the air. Frank nearly giggled. He hadn’t ever seen someone so intensely focused on anything before, let alone a shoe. 

“This is where it gets good.” Frank said, as he lifted his foot and slid it on.

“You’re making fun of me.” It was probably supposed to sound accusatory, but it came out distracted. 

“Me?” He gasped, aiming for dramatic. “I would _never_. Now, pay attention, this part is important.” Frank really hoped he wasn’t over doing it.

The mermaid’s eyes flicked up and they smiled. Frank grinned back and set about tying his shoe.

\----

“No, no. I understand what clothes _are_ , but like, _why_?”

The sun was dipping low on the horizon and any of Frank’s previous conceptions of the mermaid being quiet had been thrown out the window. They had so many _questions_ and Frank’s jaw ached from trying to answer them all. He was a little out of his depth with this and definitely not smart enough to provide the ‘Human 101’ that the mermaid wanted. 

 

“We just… do? Like, way back in the beginning we probably didn’t but…”

He was only fifteen, he didn’t know this shit. Apparently, neither did the mermaid. They didn’t look much older than him but Frank had seen enough fantasy movies to know that supernatural creatures were usually way older than they seemed. Plus, his knowledge of mermaid lore or whatever was severely lacking. At least when he thought he was dealing with a ghost he had a ballpark idea of what to do. An extremely curious mermaid was beyond him. 

“Don’t you get cold? Or like, uncomfortable with the temperature?” Frank asked.

The mermaid blinked at him and Frank realized it was the first question he had asked. 

They took a moment to think, running their hands over their arms and Frank fought hard not to stare.

“No, I guess I don’t.”

Speaking of cold, even though California summers were warm, the heat of the day always cooled off by sunset. Goosebumps were beginning to prickle across his skin. He had the immune system of a soggy piece of toast and he wasn’t dumb enough to push being exposed to the cold for too long.

The mermaid seemed to notice it too and said, “The tide is going to come in again.”

Frank sighed. He needed to get up, put his clothes on, head back but the mermaid was staring at him like they had something they desperately needed to say, one final question to ask. So he waited, frozen on that rock, the sunlight playing off the water and casting a glow around the mermaid. 

“You’re gonna-” They wrung their hands. “You’re coming back right?”

“Of course.” Frank was surprised by the certainty in his voice. 

\---

Frank flopped back on to his bed, his wet hair curling up around his ears. He had practically sprinted home, praying that his mom wasn’t there yet. Her car, thankfully, wasn’t in the drive way and he had plenty of time to bury his clothes deep in the washing machine. Now he wouldn’t have to worry about his mom grilling him on why he decided to go for a swim fully clothed when he didn’t know how to do much more than doggy paddle. He even had time to scrub down his entire body so he smelled like an innocent bar of Irish Spring rather than supernatural discovery. And here he was now, staring at his ceiling and sighing in relief. 

He could almost pretend nothing happened. Almost. If it weren’t for the way the smell of sea still hung in the air, despite his best efforts in the shower. And the completely awed voice in his head that kept repeating ‘Mermaids are real. Mermaids are real! One lives less than 300 feet away from you! Mermaids are real and they’re pretty and they have questions they think your dumb ass can answer!’ Sure, they weren’t a ghost or something even remotely punk and Frank was really too stupid to be answering any of their questions. But still, a mermaid? That was rad as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends  
> Sorry for the wait on this chapter, life happened but I'm back! Thanks for all the comments and kudos you guys have left so far, they're super encouraging and totally make my day! I also have [tumblr](https://frankie-darko.tumblr.com) if you want to stop by and say hi there or something. This work is still inspired by [this awesome post](https://extremelybadlydrawnemos.tumblr.com/post/160488943765/au-where-teal-roots-gerard-is-a-mermaid-and-frank) by [extremelybadlydrawnemos](https://extremelybadlydrawnemos.tumblr.com) so go give them more love. Their art is incredible and funny, which is hard to find, so yeah! Until next time!  
> (title taken from Sitting, Waiting, Wishing by Jack Johnson)


	3. Hang Me Up To Dry

It was far _far_ too early for Frank to be awake.

He fisted his hands in his comforter so he could snuggle into the warmth of his bed. But his curtains were open and the sun was right in his face. No amount of snuggling would fix the fact that he was already painfully and aggressively conscious.

He groaned and tried his best to bury his face into the covers. He could totally go back to sleep.

But then the door to his room creaked open, slow and deliberate. No.

“Frankie? You up?”

He could just picture it, his mom poking her head into his room, ‘respecting’ his space while still managing to keep him up. 

He would never get back to sleep if she came in. 

“Mom, no. Please.”

“Frankie-”

“I’m sleeping. Totally asleep.”

The door groaned again but instead of the lock clicking shut, the smell of fresh coffee wafted into the room.

“Alright, well since my child is asleep, I guess I’ll have to take my fresh coffee with filtered water and almond milk some where else…”

He wasn't going to get up. He really wasn’t. But filtered water? That vanilla, fully sweetened almond milk he had seen in the fridge? 

God Damn it.

He cracked an eye open, just to see. And there she was, looming over him, cup in hand. It was really too good to pass up, so he reached out for it. The cup was warm and the coffee smelled so good. The beach spilled in through his window, the gulls and the waves providing a soundtrack to his morning. The morning fog swirling around in his head slowly dissipated as he sipped at his coffee and he almost felt… content. 

He barely registered his mom settling down at the edge of his bed but he definitely noticed when she took the coffee from him. It took a few moments after the warmth of the cup left his hand before he realized it wasn't coming back. The look on his mom’s face said that much.

Fucking Trojan Horse coffee.

She sipped at it before setting it on his dresser, every moment slow and measured in order to wring every second of unease she could get out of him.

“I know I taught you how to start the washing machine Frankie.”

Oh. _Oh._

She was looking at him like she had that one time after he came home from a party he hadn’t had fun at and shoved his smoke and beer tainted clothes into the laundry after dousing them in febreeze. Her mom-nose rooted that shit out in a minute and ended up cornering him in the kitchen. He was grounded for a long time. 

And here he was, months later, making the same mistake, being stared down by his mom in the same way she had in the kitchen. He felt like his stomach might twist into oblivion. 

“You can’t just throw your clothes in there and pray. You actually have to press the buttons.”

He wanted to duck his head under the covers. Right. Start the machine, you idiot. Now she was going to put him through the wringer and he was going to blab everything.

“Now what I want to know is what you did to them. The washing machine smelled like a kelp bed. I think I might have to throw some of those clothes out.”

He knew he had to answer, she had that look in her eye. But things got tight for a second, in his chest because he had maybe sort of forgotten why his clothes were there in the first place. But now that his was confronted with his mom and kelp beds, rows of sparkly scales and teal roots danced through his memory. 

Oh fuck. 

She must have sensed his panic because her eyebrows got all intense.

He was so screwed. Meddling with supernatural shit was way worse than cigarettes and underage drinking. 

“Frank.”

Oh God, there it was. The Mom Stare. He needed to act fast or she would start assuming and then he would be in the shits for sure.

But he couldn't think of anything that would end up with him under house arrest. He frantically sifted through excuses but he couldn't think of anything but the truth.

“I went in the ocean!” He blurted

It was quiet as she searched his face, looking for the lie. All he could do was compose himself and work with it. He technically wasn't lying, he was just omitting the huge, mermaid shaped part of his day.

He ducked his head and waited for the yelling. He had a guilty face and she knew it. When the quiet continued he risked a peak up and-

And she was smirking! His mom was sitting there, lips lifting at the edges as she stared him down.

He gave up and nodded. She must have seen some kind of something in his face because instead of yelling, the smirk settled into a soft smile and she held out his coffee. It still felt like a trap, but a delicious, beautiful trap none the less. He reached for it but she pulled back. 

“One more thing-”

God, he was dumb.

“You went in the water, Frankie. I distinctly remember you struggling with swimming in a pool. The life guard said she had never seen anyone sink like that before-”

His face flamed, “Ma-”

She steam rolled over him, like usual.

“I’m just- you’re being careful, right?”

“You know me.” He said, trying for cocky and landing somewhere around self-deprecating.

She raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

“I just went in after something that looked cool.” Something cool, indeed. “I’m not like, exploring caves and swimming out into the horizon.”

“Well, as long as you’re not actively trying to drown yourself, I think I’m okay with that.” She said and he knew he was close to being in the clear.

They eyed each other for a few moments before Frank pointed to the cup. 

“Can I drink that now or are you going to use it to torture more information out of me.”

The lines around her eyes crinkled up and she offered the coffees , this time letting him take it.

“Yeah you big caffeine addict, go ahead.”

He kept a wary eye on her as he took his first sip.

She laughed but her eyes got all glassy and she looked at him with a fondness that made him duck his head.

“Mom-”

“I just worry about you, Frankie.” She put a hand on his head. “You get yourself into trouble sometimes. I guess swimming isn’t as bad as-” She waved her hand around and he knew she was thinking of a few select times.

He kept quiet. Sometimes that was better.

—

Frank sipped at his coffee and basked in the warmth of the morning.

His mom had left him to it after she made him promise to think about swimming lessons and actually starting the laundry machine. He felt a little bad about letting his mom believe he liked the beach, liked being _here_ but it made her happy and got her off his case. That was a sacrifice he was willing to make. 

Besides, he couldn't exactly tell her he was hanging out with a mermaid. That would definitely put her over the edge. 

But, it Frank was being honest with himself, he wasn't even sure that they _were_ a mermaid. Sure, the tail and overall aquatic quality would suggest that but since he literally knew nothing about any sea based creatures, he didn't want to assume anything. He had been so focused on answering the questions that he hadn't been been able to get a word in edgewise. He didn't even know if they had a name.

 

The way they had fired questions at him, they way they _looked_ at him? They had treated _him_ like _he_ was the supernatural being and they were the totally and completely normal human. He marveled at that for a moment.

But, reality was a bitch and he wasn't the cool supernatural being in this situation. He was the totally and completely normal human being. He wasn't even particularly _good_ at being a human. He didn't know enough about the human experience to be answering the mermaid’s complicated questions.

But he didn't need to worry about that just yet because today, it was his turn to ask the questions. Where better to learn about mermaids than to ask one. They had to know their own lore, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late and so not filled with mermaids! I've been traveling and I was desperate to post _something_. So here is this. Hopefully, I will be able to post more frequently/longer chapters once I'm back at school!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy friends!
> 
> P.S I'm posting this from a mobile device, so please please _please_ let me know if the format or anything is messed up! Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends! So this kind of started off as a little writing exercise to get me back in the swing of writing but it took off on a life of its own, so I figured I'd post it. It is completely inspired by [this awesome post](https://extremelybadlydrawnemos.tumblr.com/post/160488943765/au-where-teal-roots-gerard-is-a-mermaid-and-frank) by [extremelybadlydrawnemos](https://extremelybadlydrawnemos.tumblr.com)!!! Go check it out and give them some love!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (Also if people are interested, I listened to Good to Sea by Pinback while writing most of this, so if you want some mood music. And Seaside by The Kooks is where the title comes from!)


End file.
